A Crooked Man
by Under The Hour
Summary: Showing the beginnings of L and how he met Near and Mello.. Review and I'll add more chapters. I do not own Death Note or any characters.
1. Growing Crooked

**Authors Note: **'Ello there. Thanks for finding my ficcy. Not much to say.. if you like this read the rest of it! This is basically a prologue type thing of the story.

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**  
A _Crooked_ Man**

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**There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile,  
He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile.  
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse.  
And they all lived together in a little crooked house**

A lone boy sat at a table bent over a book. His dark eyes scanned the pages of it, going from row to row, flipping a page and going on. He hunched over the book, looking like he would like to dip his face right into it and see what was really going on beyond the words. The sky darkened and brightened as he sat, shoulders and back bent awkwardly, starting to ache and become stiff. But he read on, totally enthralled by what was happening in the story. Its many twists and turns, leading you one-way and then another. The main character was brilliant. A honed mind. Sharper than any others.

The boy read on, his eyes burning and looking bruised from hours of fatigue. He read on and finally. The last page. And he closed the book and looked down at the back cover, his eyes excited as ever, bright and shining, despite his want of sleep. _Sherlock Holmes _was the book he had read. A tale of mystery and savagery. He picked himself up from his chair, shoulders and back aching, eyes burning.

And his mind. It was also on fire. As he looked out the window of his room, and out to the shadows of the coming morn and vowed to himself that he would be like that.

Figure out the mysteries that no one else could.

And he would be called _L._


	2. No Sense Crying Over It

Another day, a long time after that one, the same boy lay in his room, looking up at the ceiling, mind scattered in a thousand different places. However, something was nagging at him at the back of his mind. He played with his lip wondering what it was. He slid a tongue over the cracked surface, wetting them. Nothing moved in the room. He listened to the dead silence. He placed a hand over his heart, seeing if he was still alive. No. A pulse.

It was too quite though. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. He walked to the plain white door of his room and out into the intricate hallway of his home. The orphanage. It was his home for a very long time, though he did not spend that much time here. But what was a home exactly? Something that you could go back to and feel safe. And he felt this way about the place. So this must be his home. He realized this, but didn't show anything. The door closed behind him with a snap, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. His shoulders hunched from reading in awkward angles at all times of night, and there were small bags under his eyes.

Sock-less feet brushed the carpet on the hallway and walked down it slowly. No one was around. That nagging thing bit at him again. He wanted to scratch it, to figure it out, but he thought of nothing.

He walked down the hallway slowly, aimlessly. The fingers in his pocket felt around and he picked up a pink candy, unwrapped it and stuck in his mouth. The naked feet turned into a cozy little room with a fireplace and comfortable chairs. He sunk into one and let his feet rest on an oddment. His tongue rolled the candy around his mouth and he sucked on it.

I wonder if a woman tastes this good.

The thought came without warning, just a spark of wonder. This surprised him and he did another self-analysis. He was a growing boy. 13 years old. He had grown an inch over the last 6 months alone. This was probably a sign of puberty. He nodded to himself stiffly. That was it.

This was the usual way he figured things out. Looking at all the facts lined up one after another and then conclude on it. It was a precise and easy way of thinking things out. If you were clear minded.

He placed his legs back down on the ground and thought about this. Puberty raised levels of hormones and made you moody. He had to be careful and not let his emotions take a hold of him for the next few years. Ask others opinions if the need arise that he could not make a precise conclusion…

Suddenly his legs were pulled under the sofa, and he crashed against the ground painfully. High-pitched laughter came from behind him and as he got up slowly, he saw a pair of tiny-socked feet. L sat himself back down on the chair and stared at the culprit.

The child hair was short and a surprisingly bright shade of orange. It stuck out like a sore thumb on top of his head. His eyes looked at him brightly, and he had a mischievous smile on his face. He wore a simple black shirt and gray pants. Another orphaned child, like himself.

"Why did you do that?" his quiet voice spoke to the child. The redheaded child giggled happily and crossed the room, ignoring his question. He watched the boy sit down on a couch and take out a chocolate from his pocket. A tongue stuck out as he placed the chocolate on the end, leaned back, and let it roll into his mouth.

L swallowed his own candy quickly before asking the boy, "Can I have a chocolate?"

The boy seemed to be rolling the candy in his mouth slowly, and thinking about the question.

"Nope."

A shot of disappointment went through him like a knife, hitting the place that nagged at him. He watched the boy sit. There was easiness about him. He must have been here for a while. The boy stared right back at him.

"Want to play a game?" The boy asked.

"No thank you."

L picked himself up and walked out of the room, through the empty hallways and back to his room. He fell onto his bed and hugged his pillow, looking at the wall. He closed his eyes and wondered why there was such a horrible feeling in his gut. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

He had only felt like this one time before.

A memory of sweet, sweet honey suddenly came to his mind.

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The little boy with the chocolates got up a few minutes after the pale boy left. He walked out of the building and into crisp September weather. Splashes of colours came from all neighboring trees, littering the ground and air. The wind swept up some and flew past the boys legs. Goosebumps jumped on his skin but he walked on. 

There was a bit of purpose in his step as he walked straight into a grouping of trees and shrubbery at the side of the lot. He stopped and leaned over the dirty ground to pick up a large stone, with both hands. In front of him, a twisted bird lay on the ground, its wings crumpled, with most of its feathers coming. Its eyes were still bright and it gave a half-hearted chirp, kicking its legs frantically.

Two small steps and Mello stood over the bird, and dropped the rock.

A cruel smile was on his lips as he left.

(Hoped you liked it! At this moment, I'm not sure where the story is going, but I do know what will happen in the next chapter. ;P Please stay tuned. )


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